citylogs | currently open prompts, might make some closed ones for people

WHO: Sylvain (laidtocrest) & you?
WHAT: Various and sundry TDM-adjacent prompts and/or a catch-all so everything can be caught.
WHERE: Various places. Some ice cream themed prompts so probably at least one place is the ice cream parlor? But I can come up with other things.
WHEN: August
WARNINGS: Will be updated with warnings.

A. Why should the bank vault oversharing just happen in July?

[Sylvain's steps slowed as he entered the building, as he'd gotten used to the gray of the city, and it wasn't as if he'd never seen color before, but it's still quite...well. A Thing, caps intended, to go from gray to teal and pink and over-saturated colors that shouldn't go together, but it does.

He's still trying to decide what he thinks about the situation. Food, potentially tasty. Music, strangely familiar? But, while he weighs his options (does he want the normal looking chocolate ice cream, or the weird pink ice cream that doesn't seem like it's strawberry), why not small talk?]

So...what'd you get from the bank?

B. The real reason why I'm writing this, tbh.

[Sylvain's sitting in a car. No engine. No fuel. He's got a cup of mostly eaten chocolate ice cream with him. He had taken it to go. This had been a mistake.

He's sobbing, leaned over the steering wheel, carrying on like he just received some horrible news - like someone had died (again) - just very emotional right now. Lots of feelings, so many feelings that he had to immediately hide in something (badly) and start sobbing again.

This car isn't going anywhere, much like his life.]

C. I was going to make a darker joke for this, but then decided against it.

[Regardless, in a sudden nihilistic spree Sylvain's in the process of ~~strategically looting~~ ~~pilfering~~ getting neat shit from a store, which really does bring up the question of where their waste goes, huh? He's suddenly got questions about toilets which is terrible, because he was in the middle of doing something.

Back to that something. That something is this: a shopping cart, a generic store, and going through rows of balls. He considers two basketballs, weighs one, weighs the other, considers the texture of them, puts one into his shopping cart, he reconsiders, and switches it back again as he feels like Dimitri would prefer the one that hurts more if they accidentally clock each other in the face with them. Makes it feel more...real. True to home.

Other things in his shopping cart include two lacrosse sticks, because even if Sylvain has no idea what lacrosse is, he feels like Dimitri might feel better with them for...reasons. They're shaped in the right way, in certain respects.]

Probably says something I'm getting stuff to hit each other with... [Philosophical questions, he and Dimitri can explore the world of sports together, somehow, even if they don't understand most of these things.]

D. Wildcard...?

[PM me if you want a prompt, or surprise me.

I'll also err on the side of caution and admit that I'm possibly walking into another workplace disaster on Monday, so I might be slow? Might be okay. (Much Happened last week, caps intended, I don't mind telling the shitshow story but this isn't the venue for it.) If I am slow and you want to know what's up or plot/handwave, go ahead and give me a nudge and we can work something out. It's cool.]

Threaded | Flat

[ Gebura is, as ever, minding her own business while also scrutinizing the ice cream with an air of wariness like it's liable to sprout fangs and try to kill her.

Which wouldn't be too out-of-place in the City, but probably not this city.

She then turns that same look on Sylvain, with an extra ounce of skepticism in that sharply angled eyebrow. ]

Nothing I feel like talking about.

[What in the ever-loving heck is this thing? It looks like one of those metal contraptions she's seen around town. But larger, and there was a shape of a person inside of it. She can't see them properly from her vantage, but they appeared to be hunched over? Her blue-painted face scrunched up as she observed them for a moment longer.

Something was wrong.

Were they trapped? They appeared to be trapped. The voices were quiet for now, not offering any helpful advice. Not chittering away. Laughing at nonsense. Senua didn't like it. Part of her felt a twinge of anxiety, a twinge of fear as the shadows around and inside the car seemed to twist in her own perspective.

But the person seemed not well.

Slowly... cautiously... she approached. Before leaning over and peering into the glass. Debating on how to help, if she knew this person, what might be wrong. An equally painted hand came up to gently wrap on the window.]

[ ............ Even though Midnight's a bit of a jock himself, he surprisingly doesn't know much about sports. Even so....... he's pretty sure that the sport played with that ball isn't meant to be full contact, so that sure is an odd thing to say. (The sticks, though... that is something he is aware is full contact.)

Which are things he puts together as he hears Sylvain's voice float on the air as he tucks a couple throw pillows under his arm and saunters over. Ah, lovely. He gives him a grin. ]

Long time no see, lad. Getting active?

[Hooo boy, It's not been a great month to be an empath. Sure preternatural senses have been dimmed ever since arriving in this cursed City - but nowhere near enough to skate through this completely unaffected. Honestly, he's been quite the hermit for the most part this month because of it. It's honestly a lot to take in. And yet, groceries only last for so long and he refuses to live on protein bars on principle.

A choice that he's starting to regret as he walks near an abandoned car and feels his chest positively throb with feelings. Strong enough to bypass the usual dim cotton layer that fills his senses unless in close proximity. It stops him in his tracks, but all he does is take a moment to press against his heart for a moment before continuing to the car where he feels the emotional pull. Face pale, he quietly knocks against the glass of the car to try and get the strangers attention.]

Excuse me? I'm sorry to intrude, but are you alright?

[He obviously knows the answer, but also does he really? Given how things have been in this place, he could also be way off base. Also, it's just good manners.]

[ Xiao cannot claim to have avoided the ice cream, himself -- he's actually walking back to his apartment straight from the parlor. He'd gotten half a scoop of the strawberry ice cream, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. Not that he can tell right now, because he's currently hellbent on finding someone that he can talk to about something he's been keeping close to his chest.

That someone happens to be a familiar face, who also happens to be sobbing inside of one of those strange contraptions he's seen around the city. The sobbing is muffled, very much so, but Xiao is close enough to the car to hear some of it. He stops, peers through the window...and knocks on the door. Is he in danger? Is that why he's in so much distress?

Only one way to find out. ]

Sylvain. Can you open the door?

A! also sorry to hear about your workplace disaster

B! Time for a car wreck!

c

B

b...